


Three Idiots and a Baby

by SweetPollyOliver



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Baby Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, F/M, Gen, Humor, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi, Rating May Change, The Author Does Not Support Kidnapping Babies As A Method Of Adoption, Three men and a baby AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23083873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetPollyOliver/pseuds/SweetPollyOliver
Summary: "It was bound to happen eventually, I suppose,” Yennefer said derisively. “I’m surprised you don’t leave your little cuckoos to be raised by the cuckolds.”“This is not my little cuckoo,” Jaskier said, not a little shortly. “This is Geralt’s little chicken coming home to roost.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 99
Kudos: 440





	1. Chapter 1

If you had asked Jaskier five minutes previously, he would have said that the last thing he expected was to find Yennefer at the inn where he was waiting for Geralt to return. 

As it turned out the _actual_ last thing he expected was outside his door in a woven basket, sleeping soundly with a note pinned to its front. Sleeping soundly, that was, until he breathed the wrong way and the creature’s gummy maw opened and let out a terrible keening sound. 

“Oh,” he said. “Oh dear.”

By the time Yennefer arrived through the still open door, Jaskier was holding the note in one hand and the unexpected arrival in the crook of his other arm and, honestly, why not add Yen into the mix at this point? It was a strange enough day as it was. 

“You have a baby,” Yennefer said, in a tone of voice rather too close to accusing for someone who was barging into someone else’s rooms uninvited. 

“Hello, Yennefer, it’s delightful to see you too,” Jaskier said over the sound of the child’s crying, while shifting her (it was a her, according to the note, and a ‘her highness’ at that) up and down in an attempt to soothe her. “Geralt isn’t here and, as you can see, I’m _rather occupied_ -”

“It was bound to happen eventually, I suppose,” Yennefer said derisively. “I’m surprised you don’t leave your little cuckoos to be raised by the cuckolds.”

“This is not my little cuckoo,” Jaskier said, not a little shortly, and then flinched as the child gave out another cry at his tone of voice. He thrust the letter at her. “This is Geralt’s little chicken coming home to roost.”

She scanned the text quickly and looked up suddenly.

“Geralt has a child surprise?” 

“Ya huh,” Jaskier transferred the baby to his other arm and started swaying from side to side. 

“This is _Princess Cirilla_?” she went on, as though rehashing the contents of the letter would make it any easier to digest.

“So it would appear,” Jaskier said. 

Her parents had died at sea recently. Apparently, Queen Calanthe had been too distraught with grief to pay too close attention to the child, which had enabled her wet nurse—who was convinced the deaths of Pavetta and Duny had been at the hand of destiny, furious that the Law of Surprise had not been respected—to smuggle her out Cintra, leaving her own child behind in her stead as a decoy, and bring her to Geralt of Rivia. Or… to Jaskier, at least, Geralt being elsewhere at the time of delivery. 

Yennefer straightened up and looked down her nose at Jaskier as he cooed at and pleaded with the child. 

“You’re holding her wrong,” she said. “Give her to me.”

“What? No!” Jaskier turned so that Cirilla was shielded by his torso from Yennefer’s outstretched hands. She cried harder.

“I’m not going to steal her,” Yennefer rolled her eyes. 

“Well I wasn’t even thinking of that, but now I am,” Jaskier said. 

“Come here,” Yennefer walked towards him and put a hand on his arm and steered him back towards the bed. He’d had a dream a bit like this, but ultimately very, very different, once.

She pushed him down into a sitting position and sat next to him. Jaskier reluctantly let her take the baby into her arms. She didn’t stop crying. 

“Is she sick?” Yennefer asked. 

“She didn’t tell me,” Jaskier replied. “Maybe she’s hungry.”

And that was a thought. Now that the wet nurse was gone, how were they—how was _he_ —to feed her?

“Maybe she’s scared,” Yennefer said, holding the child closer to her chest. “She’s been taken away from everyone she ever knew to somewhere strange she’s never been before.”

“I mean, we haven't checked to see if she's shit herself, so I'd eliminate that possibility before assigning her psychological angst,” Jaskier said. “I’m not even sure how well she can tell where she is.”

Yennefer reached down to pat her bottom and grimaced.

"Okay, fair point, well made."

She handed him back the erstwhile princess and stood.

"Wait, no!" Jaskier sat forwards suddenly. "I don't know what I'm doing, you can't go!"

"What do I know about changing babies?" she asked.

"A damn sight more than I do, I would wager,” he continued. She raised an eyebrow at him. “At least stay for moral support?”

Yennefer seemed to war with herself for several seconds and she settled herself more firmly to the spot she was standing and her jaw twitched with tension. 

“Fine.” 

It took them some time to find something to change the baby into (and Jaskier was still not convinced that his second best chemise deserved this fate) and then to find some rags they could use to clean her with (he really didn’t feel best chemise deserved that fate). 

Jaskier watched glumly as Yennefer tore his clothing into strips and went to fetch a basin of warm water from the kitchen to wet the rags. 

Working as a team, they tentatively unparceled Cirilla out of her soiled nappy and reared backwards in unison. Yennefer screwed up her face and Jaskier covered his mouth and nose with his shirt. 

“Oh by all the gods,” Jaskier said with his voice muffled. “That something so small could produce so much of something so disgusting.”

“I think she got it up her back,” Yennefer said, halfway between horrified and impressed.

“Okay, okay, so do we put the clean nappy under her now or-”

“No we clean her first!” Yennefer replied. 

“But the, uh… the bed,” Jaskier motioned towards the clean bedspread. “I don’t have any more clothes I can sacrifice to put under her without committing public indecency.” 

“Fine,” Yennefer shrugged off the (oh, dear gods, _silk_ ) shawl around her shoulders and lifted Ciri’s bottom half up by the ankles so that she could slide it under her. 

“Right,” she said, sitting back down on her heels. “Now we… clean her up I suppose.”

It probably would have gone more smoothly with just one of them doing it. Their hands bashed into each other and they jostled shoulder to shoulder to get into a better position, but, by and by, the child was cleaned. And then she peed all over the shawl. 

“Okay,” Jaskier said. “Alright, bit of a wet patch on the bed, but we’re not going to worry about that right now. And we’re certainly not going to worry about how we’ve run out of rags. Do you know what we’re going to do, Yennefer?”

“What?” she asked.

“No, I’m really asking,” he said, his eyes wide and pleading. She punched him in the upper arm. “Okay, okay. I’ll just…”

He pulled off both shoes and then his socks, dipping them in the clean basin of water and using them to wipe the baby clean again. 

Leaving nothing to chance, they got the repurposed chemise under her bottom as quickly as possible. 

“How do you fasten it on?” Yennefer asked, criss crossing the arms across the baby’s waist. 

“I think you need pins?” Jaskier replied. “She had some in her other nappy.”

“Then get them?” Yennefer turned to him with a look that might have been bewildered or homicidal. 

A full half hour later they had figured out some way of attaching the chemise to the child without it sliding off again and they sat on the floor, exhausted, with her across their laps.

“I’m going to murder Geralt,” Jaskier said conversationally. 

The baby started crying again.


	2. Chapter 2

The next and most pressing challenge was figuring out how to feed her.

Jaskier went out to buy some milk from a goat farmer, only for the little baggage to turn her nose up at it. 

"She's used to the tit," said the innkeeper's wife, who Jaskier had sweet talked into giving him an old bubby pot. "You might have trouble getting her to learn how to suck from the spout."

"What if she can't?" Jaskier asked.

The woman shrugged.

"I buried one of my sister's twins a week after she passed," she said. "But most of them will learn eventually "

Next to him, Yennefer visibly blanched. 

"I'll be back," she said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, o-okay," Jaskier said to her retreating figure. 

The innkeeper's wife patted him on the arm and left too, leaving him alone with the fussing baby who kept turning her head away from the rag covered spout of the bubby pot. 

Three hours passed and he was beginning to worry. Cirilla still hadn't resigned herself to replacing flesh and blood with ceramic and he was trying to estimate when the last time she nursed would have been and how long her small stomach could stay filled when Yennefer burst into the room, unlacing her dress. Before he had time to adjust to this, she was holding out her arms.

"Give me the baby," she said.

He held out the pot first and she dashed it out of his hand so that it rolled (thankfully unbroken) onto the floor.

"The baby!" she repeated and Jaskier hesitantly obeyed.

Child in arms, Yennefer started lifting her right breast out of her bodice.

"Yen, steady on-" Jaskier started, but then-

The baby latched and the absence of crying filled the room. Yennefer looked at him triumphantly.

"Magic?" he asked. She nodded in answer.

"I had to research it, but it would have been stupid if there wasn't a spell to induce lactation."

"Well," he said carefully. "Very much appreciated, but aren't you kind of… stuck with us now? Until I can train her in on the bubby pot, anyway. Or until she's weaned, I suppose, whichever comes first."

"I'm not convinced that pot is very sterile," Yennefer said.

"As opposed to your scrupulously clean-"

"And I don't think it's a good idea for her to be drinking animal milk this young," she continued, cutting him off. 

"But," he said, "Helping me change her is one thing, don't you have… stuff on?" 

"Nothing more important than saving a life," she said simply, sitting cross-legged next to him on the floor.

"I think we would have gotten her used to drinking from the pot," Jaskier said. 

Yennefer just shrugged. 

"Now we don't have to," she replied. 

It was hard to argue with that. He felt his eyes begin to droop and rested his head against Yennefer’s shoulder. 

*

Days later, Geralt arrived at the inn, dripping with gore, ready to get his coin and sleep for eighteen hours. 

Unusually, Jaskier was nowhere to be found downstairs; the absence of music was jarring. He grimaced, hoping that the bard still had the room and hadn’t gotten bored and gone off in search of something more interesting. It would be an inconvenience to have to get new lodgings for the night. 

Sure enough though, the innkeeper reassured him that ‘his’ bard was upstairs waiting for him.

“I think he’s worn out, poor soul,” the man chuckled. “She’s been keeping him up.” 

Geralt rolled his eyes and ordered a bath. 

He trod up the stairs with uncharacteristically heavy footsteps and opened the door to find-

“We are not calling her Yennefer Jr.; she already has a name,” Jaskier said across the room.

Geralt’s eyes whipped to the other figure. To Yennefer. Who was holding a… 

“What did you-”

“Yes, dear heart, while you were gone Jaskier and I conceived a child, I went through an entire pregnancy and the child grew fast enough that she can now support her own neck,” Yennefer said, walking over to him and placing the baby in his arms. “It was all probably a lot more interesting than whatever boring old monster you were fighting.” 

Jaskier walked over and shoved at his shoulder. 

“Surprise, Geralt!” he said. 

He stumbled backwards slightly and the cogs in his head turned. 

“The child surprise?” he asked 

“I told you he wasn’t as stupid as he looked,” Jaskier said to Yennefer. “Yes, the child surprise. Her name is Ciri. She was fed five minutes ago, changed fifteen minutes ago and she will want a nap in, oh, about half an hour. Now we’re going out.”

Jaskier crooked his arm to the side and Yennefer walked over to lace hers through it. 

“What?” Geralt said. “Fuck. What am I supposed to do with her?”

“You’ll manage,” Yennefer said. “She won’t be hungry for another four or five hours, you’ll be fine.” 

The door closed behind them and the baby blinked up at him with suspicious wet eyes. 

“Um,” he said. “Hello.”


	3. Chapter 3

When they walked out onto the street they unlinked arms and Yennefer summoned up a portal. She looked over her shoulder at Jaskier and stepped through. He followed her. 

When they emerged through the other side it was full night. Jaskier looked around curiously. 

“We’re on the other side of the continent,” Yennefer said. “The Baroness de Saië is throwing a ball. Widowed, very rich, very beautiful. I was going to invite Geralt to come along with me when I went to the inn in the first place. I was going to take him shopping for clothes to see what he’d let me put him in.” 

She glamoured various baby-related stains out of Jaskier’s doublet and unbuttoned it a little further than even he would normally. “But, now that I think of it, he doesn’t like parties very much.”

“No, really you’re doing him a favour by bringing me,” Jaskier’s lips quirked into a smile on one side of his mouth. 

“You’re more fun than him when we’re not fighting anyway,” she smiled in return and they walked inside, arm in arm again. 

It was a party to end all parties. They danced, they flirted outrageously (both with each other and others), they fed each other grapes and laughed, they took bets on which of them could seduce the hostess first. 

They certainly didn’t worry about Geralt, as they took pains to remind each other no less than three times in the space of an hour. 

“Geralt has been looking after Roach for years,” Jaskier said, tipsy on sparkling wine and speaking a little louder than he would have otherwise. “And horses’ needs are quite complex.”

He slurred a little on navigating ‘horses’’ 

“Babies are a cinch compared with horses,” Yennefer agreed, before another young noble came to press her to a dance. She squeezed Jaskier’s hand and left him by the cheese board. 

During the next dance, Yennefer and Jaskier partnered with each other. 

“He’s extraordinarily gentle,” Yennefer said, apropos of nothing, while they circled each other palm to palm. “When the occasion calls for it.”

“He is,” Jaskier said, picking up the thread of conversation seamlessly. “And he’s been around the block a few times; I wouldn’t be surprised to hear he’d had to take care of an orphaned baby before. Brought them to the next town to find them a foster family, that sort of thing.” 

“Oh doubtlessly,” Yennefer pivoted and clapped her hands in time with the music. “He probably knows more about children than what we’ve managed to scramble together in a few days.” 

“I was the youngest in my family,” Jaskier nodded vigorously. “And none of my siblings had children before I left home. But I managed!” 

“Geralt is fine,” she said firmly. “I’m not at all worried about Geralt.”

They portalled back to the inn when the dance was over. 

They didn’t _scramble_ up the stairs, or anything as undignified as that, and they did not sound like a herd of frightened cattle whatever Geralt might have said to them about it later. 

When they threw open the door, Geralt was sitting in a bath in the middle of the room with the baby resting placidly against his chest, babbling and tugging at his hair. 

“I thought you went out,” he said after a long pause. 

“It was quite dull actually,” Jaskier said. “The music was-”

“Inferior,” Yennefer cut across him. “Their flautist must have had a cold or something; I’ve never heard such poor breath control.” 

“And the food?” Jaskier gestured towards her. 

“Oh, I nearly sent it back,” she replied. “So dry!” 

“I see,” Geralt said and turned away from them to empty a teacup of water over Ciri’s head. 

“So how did, how did you get on then?” Jaskier asked, leaning against the doorway (missing it on the first try) and affecting casualness with every inch of his body. 

“Fine,” Geralt answered shortly.

“Good, good,” Jaskier replied. “Good, good, good. We knew you would be fine, never a doubt in our minds.” 

“I can see that,” Geralt said. “You both smell _very_ calm.”

Yennefer went to kneel next to the tub and splashed him, before reaching out to pet the wet down of Ciri’s head. 

“Hello, darling,” she said.

*

Once the sun went down, Yennefer magicked the bed an extra two feet wide, snuffed the candles and started stripping to get into bed with little ceremony. 

If Geralt felt strange about sharing a bed with both Yennefer and Jaskier, or about getting into a bed with Yen under rather different circumstances than usual, he didn’t mention it. He slipped between the covers in his small clothes to lie with Ciri between him and Yennefer. 

Jaskier looked at them for a moment. They looked like a family.

“Maybe I should get another room,” he said. “Where did I put my coin purse? And my… trousers?” 

“And put my efforts fixing the bed to waste?” Yennefer said into her pillow. “Just get in.” 

He had shared beds with Geralt for years to save coin and, over the past few days, had shared with Yennefer and Ciri and been too bone tired to overthink it. It felt different climbing into bed with the three of them together. 

He got in.

Geralt rolled over and frowned at him as he tossed and turned getting comfortable. 

“Stop fidgeting, you’ll disturb the baby,” he said. 

“A few hours and he’s an expert,” Jaskier muttered and then squeaked as Geralt swatted him sharply on the upper arm with the back of his hand. 

“Don’t squabble, boys,” Yennefer sighed. 

Jaskier obediently settled himself down. Sure enough, he soon felt sleep steal over him.

Some time later, he wasn’t sure how long, he was woken by soft snuffling crying. His eyes barely drifted open to see Yennefer sitting up, picking up Ciri and adjusting her clothing to start nursing. 

The bed dipped as Geralt levered himself into a sitting position beside her and swept the curtain of hair off her shoulder to press a kiss against it. He looked down at the baby suckling.

“Jealous?” Yennefer asked softly.

“You have two,” Geralt said, reaching up to slide her gown further open and cup her left breast. Jaskier felt his heart start beating faster. Which was absurd. He was all but inured to the sight of Yennefer’s breasts at this point. 

“Ah, sensitive!” she hissed. 

“Hmm,” Geralt replied. “Maybe I’m a bit jealous.” 

“She needs them more than you,” Yennefer said, but turned her head to meet his lips with a soft kiss. 

Jaskier closed his eyes and heard them kiss again. 

“I know you’re awake,” Yennefer said after a moment, reaching over with her foot to poke Jaskier with a big toe. 

“No m’not,” Jaskier replied stubbornly. 

“You’re blushing,” she replied. 

He opened his eyes and looked up at them, both bare chested and glorious. Ciri was lying peacefully in Yennefer’s lap with Geralt’s hand cupping her head. 

He sighed and shifted into a sitting position next to them. 

“We’re sorry,” Yennefer said and leaned over Geralt to kiss Jaskier briefly on the corner of his mouth. 

Jaskier dramatically affected a swoon and Geralt caught him.

“What, no apology kiss from you, Geralt?” Jaskier asked with false easiness. 

Geralt rolled his eyes and kissed him on the forehead before releasing him from his grip. 

They all lay back down.

Jaskier willed his heart to slow to back normal.


	4. Chapter 4

Jaskier woke again when dawn’s light pierced through the window, painting the room in warm, honeyed hues. He rubbed his eyes and looked up at Geralt who was sitting up in the bed again, looking down at Ciri in his arms. To the other side of Geralt, Yennefer slept on. 

“Morning.” 

Geralt turned his head at the sleep cracked sound of his voice. 

“Hey,” he replied.

Jaskier sat up and shifted over close to Geralt so that their shoulders touched. 

“She’s so small,” Geralt said finally. 

“Yeah,” Jaskier replied softly. 

“I wish Yen wasn’t here,” Geralt sighed. “That makes things a lot more difficult.”

Jaskier looked at him askance. 

“I wouldn’t have managed with Yennefer,” he said. The tone of his voice wasn’t quite scolding, more… curious. “Ciri wouldn’t drink milk for me; I don’t know what I would have done.” 

“You’d have managed,” Geralt said. He lifted a hand to stroke the tip of a finger against Ciri’s cheek. She grabbed it and started gumming at it industriously. Geralt smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “She’d have taken food for you eventually.”

“Well, I, for one, couldn’t be happier Yennefer is here,” Jaskier said after a long pause. 

“It’s not fair. She wants this,” Geralt said, freeing his hand to gesture between Yennefer and Ciri. “And I can’t- I can’t do it, Jaskier.”

“What?” Jaskier said. “Don’t be silly of course you can! We’ve got the hardest part out of the way. Now that there’s three of us-”

“We can’t keep her,” Geralt cut across him. “I can’t keep her.” 

They went quiet and looked over toward the far wall opposite the foot of the bed. 

“I don’t- my life isn’t suited to raising a baby,” Geralt said, at length. “She has a family. She would grow up a princess. What’s following after a surly bastard who kills drowners for a living compared to that?” 

“It’s not all bad,” Jaskier said, pulling at a loose strand in the bed spread. He looked up sideways at Geralt’s profile. 

Geralt looked down and away.

“I love her,” he admitted quietly. “I didn’t think I would. Not so soon. But every part of me wants to keep her. Wants to play fucking happy families with you and Yennefer. But I can’t.”

“You are allowed to have nice things, Geralt,” Jaskier put a hand on his arm, which Geralt shrugged away. 

“If I feel this way how must her grandmother feel?” he said sharply. “She belongs with her kin.”

“Her nearest kin are dead,” Jaskier said. “And maybe it was destiny: who knows? Maybe if you bring her back terrible things will happen!”

“Maybe the sky is made of bread pudding,” Geralt rolled his eyes. 

“And what of the wet nurse? Calanthe will have her head if she finds out that she took Ciri.”

“If she has any sense she’s far away from Cintra,” Geralt said. “Not that it seems like she was blessed with an overabundance of sense in the first place. She chose her own fate.”

“What about you?” Jaskier pressed. “Do you think the lioness of Cintra will sit patiently while you explain that you had her granddaughter? She doesn’t even know she’s missing as far as we know, why trouble trouble?”

“Do you think that she wouldn’t figure it out if she heard that I was travelling with a babe called Cirilla, the same age as her Cirilla, after the disappearance of the child’s wet nurse?”

“We could change her name,” Jaskier said, knowing he was losing. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt put a hand on his shoulder. “She has to go home.” 

Jaskier let out a long shaky exhale. 

“Okay,” he said. “She’s your child of surprise. I think you’re wrong, but it’s your decision to make.” 

Geralt hummed under his breath. He looked back over at Yennefer and for a second his face was open and vulnerable before he schooled it back into impassivity.

“I’ve never woken up with her before,” he said quietly. “I don’t suppose I ever will again now.”

*

Yennefer did not take the news well.

“I won’t go,” she said. “You can’t take her without me.”

“I’ll buy a goat,” Geralt said with his back to her as he packed. “And she should be able to eat solids soon. She’s nearly half a year.”

Yennefer threw her head back and laughed.

“You’ve got it all figured out,” she said venomously. “How much can a goat cost anyway? Hardly more than four marks.” 

“I’m sorry, Yen,” he said, turning back around. “But I can’t just keep a kidnapped child to make you happy!” 

“Woah, woah,” Jaskier stepped between them holding his hands in a T shape. “Let’s all calm down, lot of emotions running high here, don’t want to say anything we might regret.”

From her basket Ciri started to cry. They all turned in unison, but Yennefer was the one who walked over in three long strides to pick her up. 

“You made her cry,” she said, ignoring Jaskier. “Maybe you’re right, maybe you aren’t-”

“Okay,” Jaskier walked over and took her arm and started walking her towards the door. “Time out, for real this time. Geralt, we’ll be back.”

Downstairs, he led Yennefer to a table and gingerly took the baby from her arms before sitting them both down. She put her head in her hands and started to weep soundlessly. Fat tears rolled down her face and splashed on the scarred wood of the table. 

“It’s not our decision,” Jaskier said. “I don’t want to give her up either, but Geralt is the… Ciri is Geralt’s responsibility.” 

“Nothing’s ever my decision,” Yennefer said. “Someone else always makes the rules.” 

She laughed again and rubbed her eyes with her sleeves. 

“Well, it was fun while it lasted!” she said, her voice brittle and bright. “I suppose it was stupid to think that after this long things would start going my way.” 

“It wasn’t stupid,” Jaskier reached over to squeeze her hand. “If anyone deserves to be a mother, it’s you.”

Her face crumpled again and she squeezed back harder. They sat in silence for several minutes.

“I suppose we should go back upstairs,” she said finally. “If he’s set on going to Cintra, I’m not going to be usurped by a fucking goat.”


	5. Chapter 5

“You don’t have to come, you know,” Geralt said. 

Jaskier tried not to feel stung. He had been chattering away anxiously while holding the leading reins of the pair of geldings they had just bought for the journey (Yennefer had consented to come, but she wasn’t going to make it any easier by bringing them straight to Cintra through a portal) and feeding them a handful of oats, and Geralt had cut across him mid-remark about how lucky they were with the weather for the time of year. 

“If I don’t come you and Yennefer _will_ kill each other,” he said and patted the roan gelding on the side of his neck. 

Geralt made a noise indicating his lack of care. 

“Anyway, can I think of more pleasant trips? Sure,” Jaskier went on. “But I’m not going to just be on my merry way after all this has happened. You’re stuck with me.”

Geralt gave him a tight smile and walked off towards the inn. Jaskier sighed. 

*

They left by early mid morning, with Ciri in a fur lined pack with holes cut for arms and legs across Yennefer’s front. Jaskier tried for at least forty five minutes to act like there wasn’t an atmosphere of bristling antagonism between his travelling companions and made one sided conversation, sang songs, tried to instigate games of I Spy. 

He saw Geralt turn in his saddle to tell him to shut up and then saw Yennefer stare daggers directly into Geralt’s eyes. The witcher turned back around and sighed. Jaskier shut up anyway. 

When they made camp, Geralt went to follow Yennefer inside when she finished pitching her magically enhanced tent.

Jaskier looked down at Ciri in his arms and raised an eyebrow. 

“Do they need supervision, do you think?” he asked. She kicked her legs a little in response and smiled at the attention. “My feeling is that they might get it all out of their system in one big… um, hug. But they could also murder each other.”

He looked at the tent. His leg jiggled up and down for a few seconds before he finally got up and walked in the entrance. 

As expected, Yennefer and Geralt were standing inches from each other exuding a crackling energy between them that could have been directed in a variety of ways. They both swung around to look at Jaskier and for a moment he was worried that it would all come arcing towards him. Their faces softened. 

“I’m going to go and hunt something for dinner,” Geralt muttered and walked out of the tent with his head down. 

Yennefer let out a long breath and sat down heavily on the bed. Jaskier walked over tentatively and sat next to her. Her hand reached out instinctively and took his and he interlaced their fingers. 

“We could run away while he’s gone,” she said quietly with a wry smile. “I hear Redania is lovely this time of year.”

“No we couldn’t,” Jaskier said. “Neither one of us could do that to him.” 

“Not that he doesn’t deserve it,” Yennefer snorted. “But I yes, I suppose.” 

“He’s trying to do the best thing for her,” Jaskier said. “He’s not doing it to hurt you. Us.” 

“Jaskier?” Yennefer asked him and, as he turned to face her, took his face between her hands and kissed him. 

For three wonderful seconds he kissed her back. Her hands skated up from his face to wind into his hair, pulling pleasantly.

“Wait,” he pulled back. “Don’t- not like this.” 

“Not like what?” she asked, close enough that the tips of their noses still touched.

“Not to hurt Geralt,” Jaskier replied, pulling back further. “I would happily kiss you if I thought it was because you wanted to kiss me, but I can’t do that to Geralt.” 

“Why not?” she asked, with bitterness colouring her words.

“You love him,” Jaskier replied. “I love him.” 

“Gods,” she said, falling backwards onto the bed. “You can have him.” 

“No I can’t,” Jaskier replied softly. “Even if he didn’t love you.” 

“More fool him,” Yennefer said. 

He lay down next to her, putting Ciri down between them. 

“For what it’s worth,” he said. “I-”

“I know,” she replied. “It’s okay.” 

Geralt found them when he returned with a brace of field dressed rabbits. Jaskier left Yennefer with the baby to go and help with the dinner.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: descriptions of butchering game

As he walked out Geralt was using a short dagger to butcher the first of the two rabbits, which was now skinned. 

“Need some help?” he asked and Geralt tossed him the second rabbit. 

“You got a knife?” Geralt asked, seemingly addressing the carcass he was trimming free of cavity fat. 

Jaskier took out the knife Geralt had given him and gave him a half hearted salute with it. Geralt grunted with what Jaskier chose to interpret as approval. They sat in silence for perhaps half a minute, occupied with their gory task. 

“Ciri’s settled for the night, I think,” Jaskier said finally. 

“Good,” Geralt replied. 

“She’ll probably sleep with Yen,” Jaskier continued to Geralt’s answering hum. “Are we putting the bed rolls in the tent? Just to help if she doesn’t sleep through the night?”

“Probably,” Geralt shrugged. “I don’t want Yennefer to be alone with her too much.”

“In case she gets too attached or something?” Jaskier asked. “Because I think that’s closing the barn door after the horse has escaped somewhat.” 

“Or something,” Geralt said grimly. He looked over at the rabbit Jaskier had skinned and grunted again in what might have been approval. “Do you know how to butcher or should I do that?”

“Give me a little credit, Geralt, I have been travelling the continent since I was a teenager. With and without you, I’ll add,” Jaskier replied. “What do you mean ‘or something’ though? Are you worried she’ll make a run for it?”

“The thought crossed my mind,” Geralt said. 

“She wouldn’t do that,” Jaskier said firmly. 

“You seem to know her very well all of a sudden,” Geralt muttered. 

“Wh- are you- Geralt, are you _jealous_?” he asked, firmly not thinking about kissing Yennefer less than an hour ago the better to maintain his righteous indignation. “I thought it annoyed you when we’d snipe at each other.” 

“I prefer that to her not talking to me,” Geralt said and sighed. He put his rabbit carcass down. “I’m sorry. You’re the one who’s keeping the peace. We haven’t made it easy for you.”

“That’s okay,” Jaskier said, still somewhat prickly. 

“I’m glad you-” Geralt cut himself off and ducked down. “Are you angry with me too?” 

“No, I’m not angry, Geralt,” Jaskier sighed. He grimaced as he cut the kidneys out of the rabbit he was working on and set them carefully to one side. “I’m sad, but I’m not angry.”

When he looked up, Geralt was looking at him intensely. His eyes flicked away and he was about to turn his head when Geralt surged forward to meet his lips with his own. Jaskier pulled back almost immediately.

“Wait, wait, what?” he said, holding up bloody hands between them. 

“Sorry,” Geralt said and turned to go back to butchering. 

“Ahahaha, actually, _no_ , we’re not pretending that didn’t happen,” Jaskier said, grabbing Geralt’s arm and leaving a red band of blood around his wrist. “We’re talking about this right now.” 

“I said I was sorry,” Geralt was looking him in the eye now. He looked angry, which was to say, embarrassed. 

“Why did you do it though?” Jaskier said. “Was it to cheer me up? Was it to cheer _you_ up? Was it, and this is actually very crucial, because Yennefer won’t kiss you and thought that I was a loyal little hangdog puppy who would?” 

“I wasn’t thinking,” Geralt said sullenly. “It seemed like-” 

“What? A good idea at the time? I am never listening to you criticise me for not thinking through who I bring to bed again!” he said, releasing Geralt’s hand to throw his both of own up in the air. 

“I thought you- it doesn’t matter,” Geralt muttered. 

“Well, as it happens, you thought correctly,” said Jaskier, settling back down to butcher his own rabbit. “But I do respect myself just a little bit and I don’t want to be kissed to fill the Yennefer shaped hole in your heart.” 

He applied a little too much pressure to the knife as he was cutting through the rabbit’s haunch and it shot through too fast and bit into the pad of his thumb. 

“Ah!” 

Geralt put his own work aside and pulled Jaskier’s hand into his own.

“It’s not deep,” he said, after a quick inspection of the wound. “It’ll heal.” 

Jaskier distracted himself from the pain of the cut with the feeling of Geralt’s fingers around his wrist and then gritted his teeth. 

“Good,” he said. “I’ll go and take care of it.” 

He got up and left Geralt alone.


End file.
